


don't you want to be free?

by revinn



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Eventual Smut, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Mild Language, Mind Games, Parent/Child Incest, Pre-Canon, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revinn/pseuds/revinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the life of the Abrasax brothers, pre-Jupiter Ascending. Eventual Balem/Titus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before the events of Jupiter Ascending. Primary pairing is Balem/TItus, so...incest galore. Half siblings in this canon. There will be a LOT of smut eventually, and the ratings/warnings will be updated accordingly. Hope you enjoy reading about this fucked up family as much as I do!

Titus had arrived on his sister’s planet, Cerise, a mere ten minutes ago, and already he was itching to hop back on a transport. No matter how many lifetimes he spent with his family, this part never seemed to get any easier.

 _One summer_ , he thought to himself, brushing off his leather overcoat and rolling his shoulders back. Four piteously short months, and then back to freedom. No obligations, no competition – well, that wasn’t quite true. With the Abrasax family, there was always rivalry brewing just beneath the surface. It had been bred into them, he heavily suspected, this mutual disdain for one another that had appeared seemingly at birth

But family was family, Abrasax or not. And so here he was, summering in his sister’s palace with his brother, mother, and about three hundred hand-selected servants and guards to ensure the family’s safety and comfort.

Never mind that summer was relative; they could vacation on just about any planet they chose, and there were thousands of worlds experiencing beautiful weather at any given time. And never mind that being in such close proximity to one another tended to result in assassination attempts; it was a good exercise in constant vigilance. A few millennia of comfortable living could dull survival instincts, if one wasn’t careful.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Titus combed his hands through his hair, ran his tongue over his front teeth, plastered on his most rakish grin, and raised his eyebrows to the splice standing to his left.

The creature (a bobcat hybrid, if he wasn’t mistaken) blinked slowly, eyes lowered, then nodded to his companion, a similarly uniformed human female. They stepped forward in unison and pulled open the heavy wooden doors that led into Kalique’s inner sanctum of chambers.

He strode through the entryway, a swagger in his step. As if conjured from thin air, his sister’s right hand, Maledictes, appeared at his elbow, dropping into a low, grand bow.

“Lord Titus,” he preened, clutching an armful of sheaves to his chest. “It has been too long! May I say how pleased we are to welcome you into our household for the s –”

Titus silenced him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Maledictes,” he said, reaching out to clasp the advisor’s bony shoulder, “it is a pleasure as always. I trust I find you well?”

The man’s practiced smile never faltered. “Of course, Lord Titus. Your mother’s continued good fortune is a gift to us all. Record-breaking numbers this past harvest – a particularly ripe planet called Hyrath, I’m told.”

“My mother is a woman of many talents,” Titus said breezily, falling into step beside Maledictes as they started along one of the many winding corridors of the palace. “Unfortunately, relaxation is not among them. I’m here to personally see that she take a few must-needed months for herself.”

Reaching out one bejeweled hand, Titus snatched a scarlet apple from the tray of a passing serving girl, sending her a wink and a flash of his white teeth as he did so. The young woman blushed, a titter escaping her pink lips.

Maledictes nodded grimly, shifting the sheaves from arm to arm. “You are a dutiful son, m’lord, that is indisputable.”

Titus opened his mouth to respond, but faltered as the sound of a familiar voice met his ears. Stopping in his tracks, he peered out the floor-to-ceiling archway on his right, craning his neck to see beyond the pillars.

“My lord Titus?”

“Hmm? Oh, my apologies, Maledictes, but I do believe I hear my brother’s assistant. Forgive my sentimentality, but would you mind if take your leave to speak to Balem? I’m sure he can direct me to Kalique and Mother once we’ve exchanged greetings.”

The advisor inclined his head, eyes trained somewhere beyond Titus’ left elbow. “Of course, my lord. It has been some time, I understand. I am sure you two have much to discuss. I will run ahead to let your mother and sister know you have arrived.”

“Oh, would you?” Titus shot him what he hoped came across as a look of gratitude. “I would so appreciate that.”

Maledictes flashed him a tight smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, before turning on his heel and continuing on his path.

Titus watched him go, bemused, before returning his attention to the short, rodent-faced man currently watching him from across the garden.

“Mr. Night!” Titus called, sauntering over the cobblestone path and through the arch. He was immediately surrounded by the sweet, intoxicating aroma of plant-life. Kalique’s gardens were legendary, filled with imported flowers in shades of deep indigo, vibrant orange, and fiery red.

She had never so much as watered a seed in her life, of course; that was a job for the servants. However, she was still quick to graciously accept the compliments heaped upon the lush landscape from visiting dignitaries, business partners and suitors alike.

“Lord Titus,” Chicanery Night sighed, interrupting his train of thought. “What a pleasant…surprise. We hadn’t expected you for close to another lunar cycle. We’ve been scrambling to prepare a room all morning. I do hope you’ll find the accommodations up to snuff.”

The rat splice did not so much as bend a knee, nor had he ever done so in the two thousand years that Titus had known him to work for Balem. He ignored it, as he always did, and beamed at the pale man, his eyes hard.

“I am sure that whatever you’ve come up with will be fine. Now, I was hoping to greet my beloved brother,” Titus spat the word out, a foul taste on his tongue. “Is he nearby?”

Mr. Night gulped, eyes darting from side to side. It never failed to amaze Titus how much his brother managed to intimidate his staff. “His majesty has requested that he be left alone for –”

“Now, now, Mr. Night,” Titus pouted, raising one groomed eyebrow. “I’m sure he would be more than happy to make an exception for his only brother.”

He could practically see the gears turning in the rat’s head. If he brought him to Balem, he would face his lord’s wrath for disobeying a direct order. If he failed to do so, he ran the risk of Titus running off to tell his mother that this terrible splice refused to let him see his own brother.

Forcing a tremulous smile to his face, Chicanery finally nodded. “Of course, Lord Titus. As you wish.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Mr. Night led Titus to a secluded area in the gardens, just beyond the impeccably carved jade fountain their mother had commissioned as a name day gift for Kalique some few thousand years prior.

He could sense his brother long before he came into view. Tension was building at the base of his spine, the result of three thousand years’ worth of rivalry and competition. This game they played was all too familiar. There was a poetry to it, and Titus would be lying if he said he didn’t glean some sick pleasure from it.

They turned one final corner, Mr. Night waving off a pair of gigantic reptilian guards with a pale, clawed hand. He could just see his brother’s profile in silhouette, his strong nose and chin jutting out against a backdrop of brilliant green foliage. Balem was reclining on a hovering chaise, a small end table supporting a pitcher of some dark amber liquid and a thick leather-bound tome just adjacent.

Chicanery stumbled forward, clearing his throat. “Your majesty,” he announced, his voice breaking with nerves.

“Mr. Night,” Balem croaked, as still as one of the marble statues decorating the garden’s paths. “I thought I was explicitly clear that I was not to be disturbed.”

The rat splice shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Yes, my lord – that is, I –”

Titus stepped forward, Balem’s profile sharpening in his view. “Brother. It has been too long.”

Balem let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Leave us,” he commanded, his voice a mere whisper.

Mr. Night dropped into a bow, shot Titus a look of disdain, and scurried away.

For a long moment, they remained silent. Titus let his eyes wander along a lush vine of ivy climbing up and over the immense stone wall. Finally, his brother exhaled once more.

“Well, come forward then.”

Titus approached his lounging sibling at a maddeningly slow place, stepping around the chair until he stood in front of Balem, arms folded across his chest.

His brother’s haughty, vulpine face was upturned to the sun, eyes shut, long lashes splayed over high, freckled cheekbones. Balem appeared fluid, almost feline as he reclined, the fingertips of his left hand just brushing the tile below his settee.

“Brother,” he rasped, turning his head and opening his eyes, casting a dismissive glance in Titus’ direction. “The last I heard, you were waist-deep in whores and wine on Tethran. I’m surprised you managed to drag yourself away long enough to grace us with your presence.”

Titus stepped forward, letting the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you sounded a bit…jealous, Balem.”

The other man huffed and raised an eyebrow. “You come here, savings squandered yet again, no doubt waiting for the moment you can beg us to open our palms, and what do you expect of me? To listen to your beguiling tales of brothels across the Fuiln system? Forgive me, brother, if I lack your…enthusiasm.”

Titus feigned an expression of shock, one hand flying up to his throat. “Brother, you wound me,” he gasped, “is it so hard to believe that I may have missed my cherished family?”

The corners of his brother’s mouth twitched in what might have almost become a smile.

“Of course,” he breathed, “how rude of me.”

Balem stood gracefully in one fluid motion, sweeping his hands to the sides, palms up, in a gesture of welcome that felt so painfully forced that Titus inadvertently let out a snort of laughter.

“Well, you’ve clearly been working hard,” Titus tilted his head, regarding his sibling with mock concern. “I think someone might be overdue for their next dosage, don’t you?”

He’d said it to goad his brother into what would surely be an acidic response, but it was true. Balem looked unlike his usual pristine self; he was slightly haphazard, and worn around the edges. His dark hair was greying slightly at the temples, the skin around his eyes crinkled and paper thin.

Balem merely blinked owlishly, lifting one hand to his chin and regarding Titus with an intensity that made him squirm.

“Well,” Titus coughed, shrugging off the anxiety he suddenly felt under his sibling’s scrutiny. “Come and greet me like a proper bother.”

He opened his arms and stepped forward, cocking his head expectantly to the side. Balem hesitated, his full upper lip curling slightly as he flinched back almost imperceptibly before acquiescing, leaning into Titus’ arms and draping his arms limply around his brother’s back.

Titus wrapped his arms around Balem, pulling him close. His brother seemed thinner, less tangible somehow. He could feel his ribs beneath his ornate jacket, fragile and delicate as bird bones. He’d never met Balem’s father, but he and Kalique had always assumed their brother took after him, with his fair complexion and angular features so unlike their own.

Balem shunned the fragrance blends of heady incense and expensive resins so favoured in their social circle. Titus had never seen his brother apply a scent, nor had he ever seen so much as a razor in his pristine set of rooms, and yet…

He inhaled deeply, trying to pass the gesture off as a sigh. The aroma of weak tea, dry sandalwood and a sharp, astringent note that was strangely electric washed over him. Simple, clean, and purely Balem. Titus had always found it strangely comforting, in a bizarre, stomach-churning sort of way. _Best not to think too deeply about that_ , he mused.

Balem was the first to pull away, straightening his shirt and wiping an invisible speck of something from its hem.

“Well,” he said hoarsely, his voice low with something Titus couldn’t place. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to see Mother now.”

“Of course! The poor dear, I hear she’s been working herself absolutely to the bone.”

Balem raised one shoulder noncommittally, his eyes looking past Titus, unfocused. “Mother always works her hardest. It’s a value she has instilled in two thirds of her children.” He stepped past Titus and began to retrace the path towards the inner sanctum.

Ignoring the jab, Titus fell into step behind him and grinned. “I spoke to Mother just last week. She was simply raving about how much she misses her youngest child. Kalique told me she has been quite beside herself.”

The shot was taken. He waited for Balem to react. This was what it came down to after all, wasn’t it? Who was the prized stallion in their mother’s stable, the golden boy in her eyes?

Balem stopped, fists clenched, and for a moment Titus thought he might turn around to swing. He braced himself for the blow, but his brother merely cleared his throat.

“Not to worry,” he sighed, turning to look back over at his sibling, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’ve been keeping Mother company in your absence.”

Titus felt his grin falter as a twist of envy gnawed at his guts. Struggling to keep his composure, he inclined his head towards Balem, sweeping out an arm in deference.

“I can always count on you, brother,” he crooned, tilting his head. “Fortunately for you, Mother and I have already arranged for my stay to span the duration of the summer season this year.”

He strode forward, until he was shoulder to shoulder with Balem, and clapped him on the back, leaning in conspiratorially. “I suppose you could say that I’m here to share the burden. Let you get some well-deserved rest. Mother does miss me so when I’m gone.”

Titus winked lasciviously, allowing himself a moment to revel in self-satisfaction as his brother’s mouth tightened into a thin line, his face reddening along the temples.

Whistling tunelessly, Titus strode forward, leaving his brother fuming silently in his wake.

Yes, it was going to be a good summer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get even more uncomfortable and tense in the Abrasax household!

The two travelled in silence to Kalique’s ornate set of personal rooms. Guided by a smiling older woman with long gray braids, they entered an antechamber heavily perfumed with the scent of roses. 

Sunlight streamed in through the wide windows, illuminating the two women relaxing in chairs in the centre of the room. One was dark-haired, with olive skin and large, expressive eyes. The other had auburn curls and smooth, fair skin, a slightly strained smile plastered on her pretty face. Both looked up at the sound of the brothers approaching, their conversation clipped short.

“Titus!” 

His mother stood in one fluid motion, ivory dress tumbling down around her bare feet. Her bronze skin glowed with youth and good health. The wide, sincere smile she wore lit up her entire face, her eyes twinkling. 

A smile to match hers blooming on his lips, Titus rushed forward to envelope his mother in a tight embrace, scooping her up off the ground and twirling her around in a circle.

She let out a girlish peal of laughter, looping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. He let her down slowly, fingers grazing the sides of her impossibly thin waist.

“Let me look at you,” she murmured, stepping back and taking his face into her hands. She tilted her head, rubbing the pad of her thumb against his cheek. “You look so handsome. Tehran agrees with you.”

He ducked his head, bashful under her scrutiny. Peering behind her, he grinned at his sister, bowing his head in greeting. “Kalique.”

Kalique extended one hand to ruffle his hair, a look of surprisingly genuine affection on her face. “Titus,” she smiled, eyes dancing. “It’s been too long.”

“I say sister, I do believe you grow more lovely with every passing year.”

Kalique laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Liar.”

“Charmer,” Seraphi corrected, her gaze full of a sudden heat that left him light-headed.

Balem cleared his throat behind them. A weariness crossed their mother’s face, gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

Seraphi stepped to Balem’s side, one hand on his arm. “Balem,” she murmured, her tone soft and placating. “My good boy. Aren’t you happy to have us all reunited?”

Balem’s smile was tight in response. “Of course, Mother. Thrilled.” He shot Titus a look of utter loathing over his mother’s head, before softening his gaze to meet Seraphi’s eyes.

Seraphi chuckled, reaching up to stroke Balem’s jaw affectionately. “Now who’s the liar. I know you boys don’t always…see eye to eye, but I hope you can put your differences aside so that we can enjoy these months together.”

Titus bowed low. “Of course, Mother.”

Balem offered only a terse nod in reply. Seraphi sighed, but seemed mollified. 

“Now,” Kalique chirped, eyes searching for the nearest servant. “I’m sure poor Titus must be simply starving after his journey here. Shall I arrange for a meal?”

“What a wonderful idea, Kalique!” Seraphi said, smoothing the folds of her dress with slender hands. “Shall we eat in on the balcony this evening? Under the stars, just like old times?”

She looked around expectantly at her children, who nodded their assent in turn, Balem stoic and solemn, Kalique pleasant but calculating, and Titus, ever the showman. 

“Excellent idea mother,” Kalique smiled, “I’ll fetch Maledictes and make the arrangements immediately. Titus, would you like to freshen up before dinner? Perhaps change into something a little more…formal?” She wrinkled her nose as she looked him up and down.

“Of course, sister.”

“Lovely,” Seraphi cut in, “Balem, would you show your brother to his rooms?”

Balem bristled, lip curling slightly. “Mother, I implore you-“

“Now, Balem,” she said, suddenly as cold as ice. In the next breath, her voice has regained its former warmth. “I’m going to change into something more appropriate for the occasion myself. I’ll see you three within the hour.”

Reaching up on her toes, Seraphi kissed Titus on the cheek. His skin burned where her lips touched him. She left the room with a rustle of fabric and a ghost of the sweet scent of honeysuckle.

“Come then,” Balem growled, hands clenched into fists. He strode off at a brisk pace, leaving Titus to rush after him with a quick farewell to Kalique.

They arrived at a prepared guest room within seconds. One maid remained behind in the room, dusting the vanity while whistling tunelessly. When she saw the brothers enter, she froze, lip quivering.

“Out,” Balem barked. She complied, stumbling into a curtsey as she rushed to depart. Balem slammed the door shut behind her, teeth bared in frustration, breathing ragged.

They were alone. This fact registered to Titus with a jolt, and he slinked forward until he was close enough to smell Balem’s intoxicating scent.  
“Things with you and Mother seem tense.”

“That is none of your concern.” 

Titus nodded thoughtfully, taking in the strong line of Balem’s jaw. “I suppose not.”

His brother massaged his temples vigorously, a sigh leaving his full lips. He suddenly looked all of his thirty thousand years.

“You’re quite a sight when you’re seething, you know,“ Titus drawled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice steady. He let his fingers dance across the exposed skin of his brother’s collar bone, skin sparking at the contact. “It brings back some pleasant memories…”

Balem recoiled back, eyes flashing with rage. “This is not to be that kind of visit, Titus,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Not again.”

“That’s what you always say,” he sighed, stepping forward to resume the contact.

Balem swatted his hand away. Titus could see the struggle behind his eyes; it was as familiar as his scent, as the feel of his ribs beneath his hands.

“Titus,” he warned, mouth turned down in a grimace even as his body began to respond to the ministrations. 

“Brother,” he drawled, leaning forward towards Balem’s mouth, licking his lips in anticipation…

The hand shot out to grasp his throat so quickly that he gasped in surprise. Increasing the pressure, Balem shoved Titus back against the wall, face so close that he could feel his brother’s breath on his cheek.

He struggled in vain, reaching up his own hands to claw desperately at Balem’s even as his cock throbbed at the contact. The first time those long fingers had circled his throat, pressing painfully on his windpipe, he’d looked up into eyes filled with hatred and want and a thousand other nameless emotions, and thought, “he’s going to kill me.” He’d cum immediately.

“Mother has decided that she wants to tolerate your company this summer. I will not pretend to share the sentiment,” Balem hissed. “Our mother has few weaknesses. Unfortunately, her sentimentality and blind ignorance when it comes to you can be counted among them.

Titus could feel his pulse in his forehead, his skin growing hot from the lack of oxygen. He croaked, pulling at Balem’s wrist weakly.

“That being said,” Balem continued, “I am willing to indulge her of this if it will make her happy. But you will not touch me. You will not come to me, begging in the night. Any…transgressions that many have passed between us will remain an unhappy memory.”

He released Titus swiftly, letting him crumple to the floor.

Balem had regained his composure. He adjusted his sleeves, eyes downcast, before returning his gaze to Titus’ prone form. “If you fail to comply,” he rasped, “I will have you killed. Do not believe for a moment that mother’s fondness for you is protection enough if you push me. Not for a moment.”

With a last derisive snort, Balem swept from his room, leaving Titus gasping for air and massaging his sore throat. Struggling to his feet, Titus brushed himself off, the sting of rejection causing a bubble of nausea to curdle his stomach. Or perhaps that was the prolonged lack of oxygen.

“At least I still have my sense of humour,” he groaned, staggering to collapse on the immense canopy bed in the centre of his bedroom.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He’d somehow managed to get himself washed and coiffed without too much jostling of his sore throat. Titus selected a structured jacket with a collar high enough to hide the redness lingering there. It would pass quickly enough, he knew, but better to be safe than to upset Seraphi.

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant, considering the confrontation that had taken place not an hour prior. Balem was his usual dour self, but Kalique and Seraphi were at their most social, trading quips and anecdotes and recapping the past decade’s worth of society gossip for the youngest son. The food was incredible, as always, served in nine delectable courses, and the wine was over-flowing. If anyone noticed the slight rasp to his voice, it was not mentioned.

“Did Lady Pike honestly believe you would part with Humard for such a paltry price? That’s just insulting,” Kalique sniffed, swirling the contents of her glass with a raised eyebrow.

Seraphi laughed. “Well, no one ever claimed she was a clever woman.”

“Lady Pike, was she the one with the lazy eye and the incorrigible love for cats?” Titus mused.

“Titus!” Seraphi said, mock-scolding. Mirth glinted in her amber eyes.

“I hear she had a screaming fight with her daughter in the middle of the Rippit market last week,” Kalique said, leaning in conspiratorially. “The Aegis were called to investigate the disruption. Apparently they tried to pass it off as a misunderstanding.”

Seraphi raised her eyebrows in interest. “Whatever could have been upsetting enough to make that absolute dishrag of a woman lose her temper.

Kalique leaned back in her chair, pausing for dramatic effect. “Well, people are whispering that it’s a disagreement about her will and benefactors.”

Balem’s cutlery clattered to his plate. Titus looked up, catching sight of his brother’s blanched, pained face. 

His mother’s posture stiffened, her easy smile sliding off her face. She seemed to be deliberately avoiding her eldest son’s eyes. 

“Mother, are you quite alright?” Titus asked.

“Of course, dear,” she replied, struggling to force a strained smile.

“Mother,” Balem began.

“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Seraphi interjected, returning her attention to her dessert.

“Mother,” Balem said again, more urgently. 

“Not now, Balem,” she said, her voice tense in warning. “This is not the time, nor the place.”

“Mother,” Balem implored, his voice wavering, “I beseech you-“

Their mother laughed coldly, running one delicate finger along the rim of her wine glass. “Beseech away, Balem. I’ve made up my mind.”

Turning her gaze to Titus, Seraphi narrowed her eyes, one corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. “Titus would never question me so, would you, sweetheart?”

Avoiding the scalding look Balem shot him, Titus smiled, saccharine sweet. “Of course not, mother.”

Seraphi stood, draining her goblet of wine in one swallow, her eyes never leaving his. Shaking out her long glossy hair, she turned from the table, her hips swaying enticingly under her loose gown. 

“Come Titus,” she called over her shoulder, “join me for a night cap. I want to hear all about your adventures.”

Titus stood abruptly, allowing himself a quick glance at Balem. His brother’s face was blank, expressionless. His white knuckles on the tabletop and the tension in his jaw were the only giveaways to his true emotions.

“Of course, Mother,” Titus said, tearing his eyes away from his sibling. “I am, after all, your humble servant.”

Kalique cleared her throat primly, but made no move to speak. 

“Good night, my darlings,” Seraphi crooned from the doorway. Titus strode to her side, trying to keep the eagerness out of his step. She linked her slender arm with his, gazing up at him through her thick eyelashes. 

“Mother. Titus,” Kalique murmured, eyes fixed demurely on her plate. Balem was silent, his gaze unreadable.

The two made the journey to Seraphi’s bedroom in silence. Titus felt light-headed with wanting, hardly able to keep his eyes off her high cheekbones and full, rosy lips. Memories were flooding back to him in waves; Seraphi’s hair billowing out over satin sheets, her skin gleaming with sweat, the salty sweet taste of her on his tongue and-

He was jolted out of his revelry as the pair reached the high wooden door. His mother paused, looking up at him expectantly. Clearing his throat, he took the lead, holding open the heavy door for her. She swept past him, grazing against his chest. 

The room had the ornate decadence found throughout the bulk of Kalique’s home, but with touches of the simple elegance his mother favoured. 

His mother returned to his side, two glasses of deep red wine in her hands. He took one, and followed her lead as she raised the crystal in a toast.

“To reunions,” she murmured, bringing the glass to her lips slowly.

“To reunions,” he echoed. “Long overdue.”

Titus drank deeply. When he emptied his goblet, she took it from him with trembling fingers, setting it on her dressing table.

“Look at you,” she whispered, sliding her palms up his chest, her gaze reverent. “My handsome boy.”

He shuddered, leaning into the touch. The spark of her gaze was unbearable, unyielding in its intensity. His pants were quickly becoming uncomfortable, his jacket restrictive.

Seraphi brushed past him, something languid and predatory in her movements. Looking back at him over one slim, bare shoulder, she reached back under her hair, undoing the complicated knot at the nape of her neck. In one smooth motion, the dress fell, pooling around her feet and leaving her completely bare in the moonlight. 

She turned to face him slowly, one hand on her hip, her head tilted.

He inhaled slowly, drinking in the sight of her. “I have missed you, Mother,” he breathed.

She smiled, beckoning him with one finger. “Prove it to me, my darling,” she crooned.

Always the dutiful son, Titus was only happy to oblige.


End file.
